


Coming of Age: The Alternate, Explicit Ending.

by RT Fice (RT_Fice)



Series: A Beetlejuice Valentine. [3]
Category: Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship/Love, Sexual Humor, Sneaking Behind Parents Backs, much sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 02:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RT_Fice/pseuds/RT%20Fice
Summary: This is VERY explicit, in case you need more warning.This piece was originally created for and just given to Beetlebabes readers who asked me to fill in what exactly happened, in detail, with Beej and Lyds in "Coming of Age."  It expands on what occurs at the end of that story, then tells how Beetlejuice and Lydia spend the two days with her parents out of town.  I've decided to share it here, for anyone else who might be interested.Those who've already read it will note that I've added a new ending. I always felt bad that I never included Percy, Lydia's cat, in my fanfics. So I brought in the poor, neglected thing for this, along with, y'know, more sex.  Well, not with HIM.  I'm not into that.





	Coming of Age: The Alternate, Explicit Ending.

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend reading "Coming of Age" first.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087265/chapters/37569914

"C'mere…" Beetlejuice leaned back against the pillows, his legs apart. Carefully, he turned Lydia and maneuvered her between his legs, so that she was leaning her back against his body, her head beside his. His cock was up between them, pressed between the small of her back and his beer belly.

Slowly, savoring every inch, Beetlejuice opened her zipper. Lydia raised her hips, and his shaking hands slipped her jeans, and her panties, down to her thighs. She lowered them to her ankles, and then tugged them off, throwing them to land on top of Beetlejuice's boots.

Caressing her hair, he directed her to lean back on him. He whispered in her ear, "Show me what ya like. Teach me what ya like."

With her right hand, Lydia guided his. She placed his thumb and forefinger on her clitoris. He felt its rigidity. Most of the women he’d had sex with had never touched their clits, or masturbated at all. It was sad that he’d had to instruct them about the passion locked within their own bodies; helping them unlock it was one of the reasons that women recommended him to each other, despite his failings.

Lydia had wanted to show Chad how to stroke her clit. He hadn’t been the least bit interested. She was stunned that Beetlejuice not only _asked_ her what she liked, but was willing to be taught. That in itself made her feel even more respected, safer, more relaxed, and, therefore, hornier, than she’d ever felt, during any of her many fantasies about what it might be like with him.

Shyly, Lydia carefully moved his thumb and forefinger up and down her clit. He imitated it, his forehead damp with sweat. Her head fell backward, her cheek against his chin, her eyes closed.

"Am I doin' it right?" he whispered.

Pressing her cheek against his face, eyes shut, Lydia nodded vehemently. The heavy smell of him, his cock pressing against her, the slight scratch of his blond five o’clock shadow on her cheek, the very _maleness_ of him, added to her excitement. Lydia’s mouth fell open. Her breathing became more rapid. She started to reach behind her, aching to wrap her hand around his cock.

"No baby, don't worry about me, I'm good, I'm soooo fine." Beetlejuice was, in fact, on the verge. Watching this young woman, his Lydia, pink with pleasure, stretched over him, would set him off immediately if her fingertips so much as brushed against his cock shaft. He mentally centered himself, keeping his strokes on her reddened clit even, not faster or slower than she’d indicated, and not holding the delicate, sensitive thing harder than he presently was.

His cock twitched. His balls were high and full. As the smell of her vagina wafted up to his nostrils, it was all he could do to resist coming. His cock was begging to get inside. _No,_ he told himself, focusing, _not this first time. I want her to know that I’m gonna make her feel great, that I’m no goddam, selfish kid. If I want this to happen more than once, she’s gotta trust me._

Lydia felt the building heat and tickle. Unable to speak through her heavy breaths, she indicated with her hand that Beetlejuice should increase the pace of his strokes. He did. She grabbed his left hand, and placed his finger tips at the entrance to her vagina. His fingers touched their lips, so gently.

Beetlejuice closed his eyes and bit his upper lip. She was hot, and wet, and so goddamn _alive._ He felt a little shiver run through her as he slowly pushed his forefinger and second finger a few inches in. _Oh god, she’s tight._ He drew his fingers back out. _She’s sucking my fingers…oh, holy goddamn…_ His cock jerked hungrily, jealously.

Even his fingers made Lydia feel more than Chad’s entire cock had. Her wordless gasping let the ghost know he was doing it right.

Beetlejuice mouthed her neck, trying to concentrate so he wouldn't explode. His striped tongue snaked down her, coiling around her breasts. His tongue tip tickled first her right, then her left nipple. She arched her back.

This was better than anything, _anything,_ Lydia had imagined. Her breath became jerky, catching. Her fingers gripped his thighs, then moved up and dug into his hair.

"Beetlejuice…" she moaned, her hips moving faster.

Beetlejuice's tongue returned to its normal size. "Mmmm," he groaned, his own hips moving. His goal was to come simultaneously with her. His cock, its end damp with precum, rubbed between his skin and hers, lubricated with their mutual sweat.

"Oh GOD…Beetlejuice…"

"Yeeaah, baby, my beautiful baby…" His worked his fingers in and out, slightly deeper each time.

"Beetle—"

"Waitaminnit. Lyds! Don't say—"

"-juice."

A crack of lightning and clash of thunder.

He appeared on the floor of the Roadhouse's Common Room, wearing only his open shirt.

"AAAAA!" Ginger shrieked.

"Sacre bleu!" screamed Jacques. "And moi with no eyelids!" He covered his eyes with his finger bones, but could still see, so he covered his face with his beret.

" _ **Lyds**_!" Beetlejuice yelled, trying to cover his crotch with his shirttail, and crossing his legs. "Call me back! CALL ME BACK!"

Right on the very edge of orgasm, Lydia gasped and fell back against the pillow. For a shocked second she had no idea what happened. Her hand clamped to her mouth as the realization hit her. Quickly, she said Beetlejuice’s name three times.

He appeared with his flash and crack of thunder, on the bed a few feet from her. His face was red and his expression was of mortified fury. His shirttail was yanked over his erection, and his legs were bent and crossed, trying to hide what his shirt and hands didn’t.

Through her fingers, Lydia whispered, “What happened?”

Beetlejuice snorted indignantly, glaring at her. “What happened, she asks. How about, Ginger an' Jacques are traumatized fer Eternity. An’ I’m not feelin’ so hot myself.”

“Oh, my god.” Lydia tried to swallow her giggle, but it escaped. “I thought you’d appear on _your_ bed. You mean, you appeared in the…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Another giggle squeezed through her fingers. “Were they watching TV?”

“None of us will be able to hear th' theme song to _Law & Odor _again.”

Lydia fell backward, her head landing on the pillows, laughing loudly.

“Oh, ya think that’s _funny?”_ Beetlejuice snapped.

She nodded emphatically, almost hysterical with guffaws.

His cock had shrunken with embarrassment, but it was twitching back to life as Beetlejuice watched this beautiful, rose-tinted young woman lying in front of him, her breasts shaking as she laughed. He yanked off his shirt and threw it to the floor.

“Ya like to laugh, huh?” Beetlejuice grabbed her torso and tickled.

Lydia yelped like a puppy and tried to stop his hands. “No, NO! I’m _ticklish!_ ”

“Reeeaaally? All these years, an' I didn’t know that! How ticklish are ya?” Beetlejuice bent down, his tongue-tip flicking her sides as his fingers tickled her stomach. His cock was rigid.

Lydia shrieked and gripped his wrists, barely able to inhale between her laughs. “NO!” She kicked at him, half-heartedly. “Oh god, I can’t stop– it _hurts!_ ”

“Hurts? I’m not into that, baby.” His fingers stopped tickling. His palms smoothed against her waist, sliding up to her breasts. Rising over her, he brought his mouth down on the left one. Slowly, his tongue circumscribed clockwise around its nipple.

Lydia’s gasps of laughter transitioned into breaths of reigniting excitement. She closed her eyes, and clutched his shoulders. They were surprisingly muscular. His shoulder blades shifted under her palms as his left arm slid under her back. He lifted her, and positioned her head on top of a pillow. He sensuously swept her hair from under her neck and spread it across the top of the pillow.

 _Slow, ‘Juice, slooow_ , the ghost thought as his tongue trailed over to her right breast. _Don’t just jump back into it. Give her time to relax, to build…_

Lydia could sense that he was gentling her the way you would someone who’s been uncomfortably startled, and she appreciated it. Her body had been momentarily disconnected from passion. He wasn’t expecting her to be on the same level she had been when he’d been so rudely yanked away from her.

Lydia closed her eyes and lifted her arms above her head, her fingers clutching the pillow. He was licking her as if she were the most delicious thing that had ever existed. Her breaths increased in speed and depth as his forefinger and thumb repositioned on her clit and stroked, gently, up and down.

Beetlejuice buried his pointed nose in her pubic hair. When he’d first pulled down her panties, he’d been relieved that she hadn’t fallen victim to the contemporary trend of shaving that area. The idea appalled him; he’d come of age at a time when seeing a woman’s furry pubes was extremely erotic. To him, a hairless mound meant a prepubescent, and Beetlejuice was repulsed by the very idea of pedophilia. He exulted in the thick, black hair covering her mound, damp and musk-scented. Thank god she didn’t use “Feminine Deodorant,” either. Nothing, _nothing_ , smelled better to him than Lydia’s natural scent.

Lydia had to make a decision. What if she was no good? Chad was nothing to judge by; she hadn’t thought he could tell her from any other girl. But what if she disappointed Beetlejuice? What made one woman better “in bed” than another? Her doubt was burned off by the maddening ache inside her. Lydia parted her legs wide on either side of him.

“Beej…Beej…” She grabbed at his waist, trying to pull him. “Inside me. _Inside me._ ”

His fingertips petted her cunt and were about to enter, but she begged, “Your _cock. Please_.”

Beetlejuice had thought to bring her to climax with his fingers and mouth, being afraid to move too fast with her their first time. With a twinge of panic he thought of how he hadn’t fucked in more years than he wanted to remember. What if he’d lost his touch? It’d be just his luck that the one time he did fail a woman, it would be the one and only woman he’d ever _really_ wanted to please, for _her_ sake, not for the sake of his ego.

But Lydia’s insistent tugging at him and the wide spread of her thighs made it quite clear what she wanted, and a sandworm bursting into the room wouldn’t have stopped him from responding.

Beetlejuice sat on his thighs, positioning himself between her legs. Shaking, he took his cock in hand. _Oh shit, am I actually gonna fuck Lydia?_ It was only a short while ago that he’d made the jump from seeing her as a kid to seeing her as a sexual young woman. His red cockhead aiming at her glistening vagina made him pause.

Lydia sensed his hesitation. “I _want you_ ,” she lifted her hips an inch to emphasize her words, and her voice quavered with the intensity of her need.

Needing no further enticement, Beetlejuice leaned forward, one arm supporting himself, his right hand guiding his erection to her. The moment its head was kissed by her wet, full lips, he groaned. Lydia, almost insane with impatience, mewed and scooted herself closer to him. Slowly, with his eyes fixed on the incredible sight, Beetlejuice pushed the head of his cock into her. With a shuddering breath, a few inches followed, intensely stretching his Lydia around him.

Lydia sharply sucked in a breath and her eyes widened. _My god! He’s…_ Her hands reached down and grabbed his wrists.

“What?” Beetlejuice panicked. “Am I hurtin' ya? I’ll stop—“

“No! You’re just…you’re thicker than…” Lydia heaved excited breaths. “Thicker than _him_. And…and my toy…”

“I can be smaller, any size ya want, baby!”

“NO! You’re _perfect!_ I just was surprised…” She closed her eyes and pulled at his waist insistently. “Don’t stop, _please_.”

Feeling and seeing her vaginal lips surrounding his cock made Beetlejuice’s balls tighten. He pushed slowly, holding his breath as the sensation of her hot, snug body compressing around his shaft almost made him dizzy. A shudder ran down his back and he involuntarily panted, entering inch by inch.

Lydia shivered, her nipples erect and flushing deep pink-peach. She tightened around him, partly out of fear of his thickness, and partly with hunger to have that thickness pushed inside. With trembling breaths, she blindly grabbed his buttocks.

“In me, _in me, please_ ,” Lydia begged.

“Oh, _baby_ ,” the ghost panted. He leaned forward on both arms, staring down to watch her suck him in. He bent down and hoarsely groaned in her ear, “You have th' hottest, tightest, wettest cunt I have ever been in. I’m not gonna last long, beautiful.”

“You don’t have to,” she whispered back, touching her clit with her fingers. “Fuck me. _Fuck me_.”

Just hearing her raspy whisper _fuck me_ made his cock twitch and his balls burn. Acting on an idea, his fingers touched hers, and produced a small heat of from his “juice.” He slowly moved her fingers away. Lydia gasped. Somehow, his “juice” was caressing her clit for her, exactly the way she wanted.

Beetlejuice’s first stroke made Lydia pant even as he was. Slowly, he moved in and out. _Focus, focus_ , he ordered himself, unable to look away from the sight of her slick cunt mouth stretched around and sucking his now wet cock. _Don’t cum before she does, give her all you’ve got._

 _Oh god, oh GOD…_ Lydia threw her legs open as far as she could. This wasn’t like doing it herself with her dildo at all. She grabbed around his neck and pulled him down on her. He eagerly griped his arms around her head, pressing his rough cheek on hers. Her fantasy was real, _finally._ His weight on her, his breath hot and thick in her ear, his beer belly pushing against her stomach, his cock and GOD how he moved it, they were better than anything she’d created in her furtive, fevered daydreams.

The magical strokes on her clit continued. The crown of his cock plunged slowly but steadily; she could feel the veins in his shaft, feel his balls against her ass as he worked his way into her. He pulled out all but his big cockhead. Expertly, he twitched it quickly back and forth, just two inches inside her, at a spot just below the root of her clit. The tickling, hot, incredible sensation made Lydia cry out and grab him tighter.

“Yes, yes, oh god, yes, oh!”

“YEAH, suck my cock, baby, god you’re so friggin’ _tight and hot…”_

Beetlejuice added rapid, deep strokes, then more back and forth tickling with the huge head, then another slow stroke, then pounded with all his passion, all the while her clit felt like it was being licked with liquid fire.

“Oh OH!” Lydia’s explosion hit with tremors of exquisite madness. Her head flung back into the pillow as she made deep, guttural cries. Small lights flashed behind her eyelids and her lips quivered as her cunt burst into orgasmic contractions.

Lydia’s spasmic clenching, her grip on his buttocks, her animal grunts as her lips reddened, were too much for Beetlejuice. He managed two quick thrusts, and then his own explosion burned from his balls and his cockhead, traveling his shaft like fire.

“ _Lyds, baby, I’m cumin’_.” He grabbed the pillow and shoved himself in her to the root, his balls tight against her ass, his knees plowing into the mattress.

They locked together, simultaneously shuddering and gasping.

It took a while for the waves to ease. Lydia surfaced and felt a new, strange, passionate comfort having this man, older, bigger, _her lover_ , covering her, her arms around his neck, his cock still spurting inside her.

Beetlejuice didn’t want to let go. Now that he had her, he had no intention of letting anyone else, no _Chads_ , or any man, take away his treasure. He felt, for the first time in his life, and After, protective and possessive. Lydia wasn’t a lay. He didn’t know how else to think of it, but she was _his, dammit_. If fucking had ever been this intense, this _fucking, mind-blowingly amazing_ before, he couldn’t remember. Didn’t matter. It sure as hell was _now_.

Lydia’s breath caught, and she shivered. Fearing he was crushing her, Beetlejuice immediately lifted himself. Alarmed, but groggy with happy exhaustion, Lydia whimpered, “Don’t go.”

“Not goin’ anywhere away from ya, baby,” Beetlejuice whispered. Reluctantly, he slid his cock, which, even at rest, was thick, out of her, their combined juices trailing across her thighs onto the sheet. Beetlejuice rolled onto his back, his head collapsing on a pillow. He pulled her with him, so that she lay pressed to him on her side. Her head nestled on his shoulder and her hand slipped across his sweaty chest. With his right arm he hugged her to him. With his left, he barely summoned the strength to crook his forefinger. The sheet and blanket rose and covered them from the chest down.

Both of them wanted to say something, but both of them found words to be inadequate and unnecessary. Beetlejuice, his eyes half closed, kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose. He lifted her chin, and they kissed for a while, gently.

Lydia gave a deep sigh. She kissed his shoulder. She slowly petted the blond hair on his chest. Why, in all those years, hadn’t she ever noticed he had hair on his chest? _Because I was a kid_ , she theorized. _Thank god I’m not a kid anymore._

Beetlejuice, kissing her forehead, thought, _Do not blow this, you son of a bitch. This is not Play. This is not like any of those dames. This is something you do not want to screw up_.

In a few minutes, they were both asleep.

………………………………………………….

Lydia awoke with a start. It was the weight across her waist and the pressure behind her that did it. Blinking groggily, she looked down and saw Beetlejuice’s arm around her. They lay on their sides like stacked spoons, fitting together quite well: his beer gut against the small of her back, his head over hers (he was taller) with his face in her hair, and his legs bent behind hers.

 _What a strange thing_ , Lydia thought as she became fully awake. _I never imagined sleeping with him, or waking up with him in bed with me._ She realized her fantasies had never gone beyond the wish that he make love to her. That alone had seemed so improbable, if not impossible, that what might happen afterward didn’t occur to her.

 _It happened. Better than I ever dreamed_. Lydia wasn’t superstitious, but she thanked whatever luck she had. Lydia was glad she hadn’t let her two sorry attempts with Chad disappoint her to the extent that she’d abandoned her fantasies with Beetlejuice. They nearly had. After Chad, she’d thought, _What if this is what it’s always like, with any man? What if it would be like this with Beej? Do I really want to find out?_ Thank god the result was the absolute opposite of Chad.

Lydia’s next realization was the stickiness between her thighs. She was momentarily puzzled – why hadn’t she experienced this with Chad?—and then she recalled that he’d used condoms. For a panicked second Lydia thought, _Oh god, we didn’t use one, I could get pregnant!_ With relief, she remembered what she’d learned from years of visiting the Neitherworld: ghosts had sweat, blood, and semen, but none of it was alive.

A shower was necessary. Lydia was sure this was one thing she and Beetlejuice would never share. She didn’t know when his aversion to bathing occurred. _She’d_ never found his smell offensive. But then, she’d adapted to the smell of the skunk she'd once hidden in her room. When Lydia was a kid, Beetlejuice smelled strongly, yet interesting. As a young woman, he smelled _male_ , in a way no other man did. Maybe hormones were to blame, but, when near him, she’d found herself inhaling and becoming aroused. In a hyper-scented world of paranoid hygiene and commercialized smells touted as aphrodisiacs, (sometimes boys at college made her gag with the buckets of cologne they dosed themselves with) Beetlejuice’s smell was refreshingly natural. To Lydia, at least.

Carefully, the young woman slipped from his arm. He grunted in his sleep and fell onto his back. When he did, the blanket slid off him.

Beetlejuice was so unlike Chad. They’d been so quick grabbing each other that she hadn’t really _looked_ at Chad. Beetlejuice's chest was covered with yellow-blond hair. His pubic hair was the same color. At rest, his cock was still thicker and longer than Chad’s (Bertha would have called him “a Shower, not a Grower,” though he grew as well).  Even at ease, his balls, while not unnaturally large, were rounder and fuller than any Lydia had seen. His body was more muscular than she’d noticed before, but his beer gut was sexily endearing.

Once or twice during her secretive glances at Beetlejuice when they were watching TV in the Neitherworld, Lydia had worried _What if I see him naked, and he’s repulsive?_ At that time she’d never seen an adult man naked, except in the photos and videos Bertha had proudly shared with her. While Lydia hadn’t found those lean, muscular men drool-worthy, they weren’t ugly. She could tell that, unclothed, Beetlejuice wouldn’t look like them. The videos had demonstrated that you couldn’t know what a penis would look like when fully aroused until, well, it was.

Lydia wasn’t disappointed in any area.

She resisted the urge to kiss him as he slept, for fear of disturbing what looked to be a much needed recharge of his batteries. She needed to recharge as well. She felt oddly light-headed and surreal. She quietly picked up her pajama top from the floor and went to the bathroom.

………………….

Beetlejuice’s head jerked upward and he blinked. _Lyds?!_ He abruptly sat up. _Where th’ hell am I, where is she?_ Looking around and finding himself in her bed, he drew a relieved breath. _Yeah, I’m here, yeah, it really did happen. Thank god._

The _ssssh_ of a shower informed him where Lydia was.

Beetlejuice realized why he was so disorientated. He’d never slept in her room before. All those years of friendship, every night he went home to the Roadhouse, and she went home to Peaceful Pines. She was a kid; she needed to be home with her folks. He was an adult; he had his own apartment, his own coffin bed. Weird, after all those years of hanging out with Lyds in her room, floating above her four-poster bed, to wake up in it. And to have its bedclothes rumpled and scented from having the best damn sex he'd had. Ever.

She was humming in the shower. Beetlejuice was tempted to join her, to slip in and possess her soap. But, as a very experienced man, he knew it was too soon to think intimately. She needed time to get used to what had happened –-hell, they both did, him more than her, because the shift had happened so suddenly. She’d evidently been fantasizing about _him;_ he never had about her.

The ghost lay back, his hands crossed behind his head, trying to recall the last time he’d gotten laid. The years were almost indistinguishable until he’d met Lyds, and then he could only tell one from another because they celebrated holidays and her birthdays.

It’d been a year or two before the Deetzs moved to Peaceful Pines, when he spent most of his time in the Neitherworld, there not being any reason to haunt an uninhabited house. He was at some bar, bored out of his mind, horny enough to fuck Ginger ---well, no, he’d never be _that_ horny-- when he caught sight of a New Arrival. An overly-bleached blonde, good bod, wearing an _I’m a Buckeyes Babe_ t-shirt and very short jeans shorts.

She’d belched that her name was Jenny. She’d celebrated her graduation by chugging booze. Her heart stopped, permanently, and she fell over. Everyone at the party was too wasted to realize what had happened, or could have performed CPR or called 911 if they’d figured it out. They put her dead body in the bedroom to “sleep it off.” She was supposed to haunt her sorority, but the place was already crammed with ghosts, so she was waiting for her Case Worker to reassign her.

Death by alcohol poisoning leaves one a bit loopy for Eternity. Beetlejuice didn’t think of it as taking advantage of the girl’s impaired perceptions, but of not correcting her when she thought he was her age, tall, thin, and blond. The blond part she got right.

The bartender and patrons tried to warn her off, but she was too busy giggling and hiccuping to hear them. Besides, when Beetlejuice wanted to, he could be _slick_. She went to the Roadhouse without any hesitation. She saw Ginger and hiccuped, “Nice doggie,” and mistook Jacques for a coat rack. His roommates snorted in disgust and made themselves scarce.

Beetlejuice wasn’t keen on sex with drunks, but, first, she was willing, second, she was female, third, she was heterosexual, and fourth, she thought he was “cute, inna ugly kinda way.” Fifth, and most important, was that he hadn’t fucked anything except his right hand in so long that the few, minuscule scruples he had were easy to toss aside.

Jenny was into things Beetlejuice wasn’t. Twice he had to state, “I am not stickin’ it _there_ , kid. Never have, never will.” Evidently her sex life Before had been limited to badly imitating porn actresses, complete with monotone moans. Her “oh…oh…oh…” sounded like a stuck record. She was dry and didn’t move much. She called him “Benjy,” which didn’t improve his mood. In the end, he brought her to climax with his tongue –-that she had an orgasm shocked her into a moment of actual lucidity-- and got himself off with a couple of slightly uncomfortable thrusts, out of desperation rather than desire.

She wanted to see him again. He managed to get back the piece of paper he’d written his phone number on, and tear it up when she wasn’t looking.

 _How th’ hell did I get this goddamn lucky?_ Beetlejuice thought, listening to the shower stop.

After a few minutes, he heard the bathroom door open and Lydia’s soft footsteps. Why was she going downstairs? Worried that her reaction to waking up with him wasn’t the same as his with her, he instantly donned his signature clothes, and, cautiously, followed after her.

…………………………………………………….

Lydia looked up as Beetlejuice poked his head into the kitchen. She grinned. “Hi.”

“Y’okay?” he asked, nervously.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. So I came down to make…coffee.” Suddenly, Lydia felt terribly shy. She could feel herself blushing.

He came over to her by the counter with the espresso machine. He looked down at her, and she up at him. She’d grown, but, with her barefoot and him with his boots on, she was about seven inches shorter. They simultaneously were aware that their relationship with each other had changed, and changed so abruptly that neither had had a chance to psychologically readjust. They weren’t Best Pals anymore. They’d evolved into something else. It would take some time to understand what exactly that was.

Lydia, her face sexily pink, glanced down, not knowing what to say or do. Beetlejuice, who, with all his other women, had always woken up first and made his getaway, had no experience with waking-up-after behavior, and especially none with _wanting_ to stay. Lydia’s one previous experience, with Chad in the hotel, was her making her own escape before he woke up.

Beetlejuice cupped her chin, raised it, and kissed her. She kissed back. Relieved and happy, they grinned at each other.

Neither had ever taken the phrase “walking on air” seriously. But both Lydia and Beetlejuice were light-headed. They didn’t know what to say, so they didn’t speak. Lydia made espresso while Beetlejuice sat at the kitchen’s island, watching her with utter, sappy joy. When Lydia passed him to get cream from the refrigerator, he stopped her and they kissed. When she headed back to her cup, they kissed. It was very dreamlike and strange as they slowly adapted to these new feelings and signals toward each other.

With her expression, Lydia asked Beetlejuice if he wanted to join her in the living room. He nodded and followed at her heels like a puppy. Had he a tail, it would’ve wagged ridiculously. He was positively giddy, to the point where he tripped over his own boots and didn’t notice.

In the middle of the living room, Lydia turned, holding her mug in both hands, and they kissed again. It was only four p.m., so the blinds were drawn, the windows open, and the big room filled with sunlight. Though the house was quite far from any other, Lydia realized that anyone looking in would see her framed by the big picture windows, in her thigh-length pajama top, kissing an older man in a striped suit. It gave her a bit of a thrill.

Both of them enjoyed watching the news together, Lydia, because she wanted to be a photojournalist and knowing what was going on in the world was important to her, and Beetlejuice because how the world changed since his death fascinated him. Lydia clicked on the huge TV, which was tuned to CNN.

Beetlejuice eyed Charles’ big wingback armchair. He plopped into it. He chuckled. “No wonder Chuckie likes this. Comfy.”

Lydia giggled.

“Whut?”

“That was the first time I saw you. When you haunted the chair with Dad in it.”

Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow with mock annoyance. “I always wondered, why didn’t I scare _you_?”

“I _was_ scared. I ran in here, and there’s Dad screaming, his newspaper scattered all over, and the chair had become this striped, yellow-eyed, yellow-haired ugly _thing_ , looking like it was squeezing him to death, baring big green fangs and laughing evilly. I had to do something.”

“Ya couldn’t’ve been too scared. Ya really creamed me with that poker.” He’d sulked for days in the Roadhouse, a cold-compress on his head. Bested by a twelve-year-old girl! Thank god nobody else had known about it, or his reputation as the Ghost With the Most would’ve been shot.

“I didn’t know what you were! I thought you were going to kill him. I wasn’t about to ask politely, ‘Excuse me, whatever you are, would you please let my Father go?’”

Beetlejuice smirked, remembering. “Ya didn’t seem scared when I went after _you_.”

“I was!” Lydia declared honestly, sitting down on the long, wide couch with the faux chinchilla throw blanket and matching pillows. She sipped her coffee. “But one thing I knew, whatever you were, you were a bully. I had _years_ of experience with bullies. I didn’t know what you could do to me, but I wasn’t about to back down.”

“Ya _laughed_ at me!”

“You were trying too hard! I don’t know, something about you, I didn’t feel like you _wanted_ to hurt me. You seemed like you might have hurt Dad, but with me…I figured, ‘If that thing can turn a chair into a monster, it can probably rip me to shreds. I pounded it with the poker, but it’s not trying to kill me. Why?’” Lydia smiled, again with a hint of shyness. “The rest is history.”

Her smile got to him in a way no woman’s ever had before. Like cotton candy in the rain, the ghost melted and vanished into the seat cushion.

“Beej?” Lydia set her cup on the end table. She went over to the chair. Slightly concerned, she lifted the cushion and looked under it and behind it. “Are you okay? What are you doing?”

Lydia didn’t notice the black and white stripes slithering across the chair, or the chair arms shifting into arms with hands reaching from magenta shirt cuffs. Suddenly, the hands grabbed her, spun her around, and sat her down on the cushion.

“OH!” The young woman caught her breath as the arms twined around her, holding her fast. “Oh, that is _so_ not funny!”

A deep, dry chuckle emanated from the chair. “C’mon. Say yer impressed.”

“I’m not! I almost wet myself!”

“Oh baby, I am _not_ into _that_.” The cushion she was sitting on bounced her up an inch. “Yer _Dad_ wet himself when I did this.”

“Beej!” Lydia giggled.

The voice was close to her ear. “Good thing ya didn’t move here when you look like ya do now. I dunno if I would have restrained myself.”

“And what if I hadn’t been interested?” Lydia found herself easing into the strange, ghostly warmth of the encasing arms.

“I can be _very_ persuasive, baby.” From the chair-monster, a long, green, striped tongue snaked out. It slid around Lydia’s neck, up to her ear, and its tips traced along her jaw. Lydia shivered. Warmth was growing between her thighs. “Ya smell _fantastic_.”

“Umm…” Lydia felt comfortably mummified from her shoulders to her hips in the soft, weird, firm arms. “Chamomile-rosemary soap.”

“Just think what coulda happened.” Beetlejuice's whisper was husky. “A sweet young thing moved from New York city, unsuspecting that th' house her parents renovated is haunted by a demonic poltergeist. An' this demon poltergeist _likes_ what he sees.”

“Does he try scaring her?” Lydia felt his hands moving towards the front of her pajama shirt. Her breathing increased.

So did his. “Does she _wanna_ be scared?”

“Mmmmaybe. A little. Because…”

“'Cause th' idea of a powerful, supernatural force droolin' after her makes her a little…,” under the coils of arms, the hands cupped her breasts, “ _hot_.”

Lydia closed her eyes as his palms squeezed against the flannel of her top. Her nipples hardened.

“An' then sweet young thing is alone at home one night,” the ghost's whisper became raspier, “an' she sits down in Daddy’s chair to watch TV. An' somethin' _happens_.”

Lydia felt a rise in the seat cushion, between her thighs. She looked down. There was Beetlejuice’s fly, and the zipper was straining.

He whispered, “Ya want me t' let go, just say so.”

His hold was snug, but not tight. It was definitely sensuous, not dominating. She felt an alien deliciousness in her inability to free herself. “No.”

Poltergeists feed off the adrenalin and panic of their victims. While Beetlejuice didn’t want to actually scare Lydia, he couldn’t deny the charge he was getting from playing Haunting. He could feel the heat from her groin intensifying as she sat on him, and her fast, deep breaths against his arms.

His Play Voice was the breath of a tomb opening. “Hey, sweet thing. No one here but you an' me. You’re in my clutches.”

The rise in the cushion was pressing against her panties.

“Let go,” she whispered.

Confused, Beetlejuice did so immediately. Lydia stood up. Terrified that he’d gone too far, he manifested as his normal self, sitting in the chair. “Lyds, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t' ---“

Lydia was smiling. She kneeled between his legs. As his eyes widened, she unzipped his fly. She began to reach inside, but he stopped her hand.

“No, baby.”

Startled, Lydia looked up. His expression was serious and uncomfortable.

“That’s…” He chuckled grimly. “Not that.”

What he wouldn’t say was _That’s what whores do. You’re not a whore._ Trixie had definitely been a whore, a live whore, when he was living, breathing B.J., bartending at the canteen and bootlegging on the side. Trixie “rented” a bar stool, giving the canteen owner ten percent of whatever trade she picked up. She flirted with B.J., assuming that a man who looked like him would be happy to pay. It irritated her that he expressed no interest, and that women gave it to him for free. She’d heard whispers in the canteen’s Woman’s Room lobby, as women powdered their noses and penciled their eyebrows, that he was incredible in the sack, and that his equipment was impressive.

Trixie came to like him. He treated her with respect. He made her laugh. He threw out guys, and women, who called her dirty names.

One night Trixie hung around while he closed the canteen. She literally threw herself at him, and told him very directly what she wanted to do.

He shrugged. “Why th’ hell not?”

He sat in the bar’s office wooden chair as she knelt and unzipped him. She was indeed impressed. In the midst of it, she kept waiting for him to moan endearments and praise. He was enjoying it, but not with the mad enthusiasm she’d expected, and got, from all men.

“Let’s finish at your place,” she said, hopeful.

He shook his head. “Look, this is great. But I’m play, not stay. This is one time only, Trix.”

The result of Trixie’s angry disappointment was Beetlejuice calling for an ambulance. The doctor couldn’t stop snickering as he bandaged the man’s cock. “No permanent damage. Probably not even a scar. You left a bad taste in her mouth, did you?”

Ever since then, fellatio held no attraction for him.

He didn’t want Lydia to know about all the other women. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t matter. But he didn’t want to risk Lydia feeling that she was just one in a long line, and not special to him. Or to worry herself with comparisons. He knew no amount of reassurance from him would drive out her insecurity.

Beetlejuice dragged himself back from that bad memory and cupped Lydia’s chin. “That’s not somethin’ I’m into, beautiful.”

“You go down on me,” said Lydia. “Really, I want to do it for you.”

“Baby,” Beetlejuice lifted her to a standing position, “there’s only one pair of lips I want around my cock.” Trembling, his forefingers slipped under her pajama top and into her black lace panties. He touched her vagina. It was wet.

Lydia stepped back. Gazing at him with those large, dark, smoldering eyes and long, thick lashes, she positioned herself in the middle of the living room. Slowly, as he sat and watched in the chair, his cock pulsating against the restraint of his briefs, Lydia unbuttoned her top. She slid it down her shoulders and it dropped to the rug.

Beetlejuice’s tongue lolled ravenously. He yanked his trousers and briefs down his thighs.

“Anyone in Peaceful Pines can see me, if they look.” Her voice was husky. Lydia slid her right forefinger and thumb under the elastic band of her panties. She stroked her clit.

Beetlejuice groaned and clamped his hand around his cock, working it up and down roughly. His balls were high, round, and full.

Slowly, Lydia turned and strolled over to the couch. She kneeled on it, her back to him. She stretched forward like a cat, her rear in the air. Beetlejuice could see the crotch of her panties shine with wetness.

Lydia bent her arms under her chest. She turned her head so that her cheek was on the soft, furry throw as she gazed back at him. Her right hand was in her panties, on her clit.

“Fuck me, poltergeist,” she whispered.

Beetlejuice stood in an instant. He started to peel off his jacket.

“No,” whispered Lydia. “A poltergeist would ravish the sweet, young thing while he was clothed and she was naked. Wouldn’t he?”

His tongue out, drooling, his pants around his thighs, Beetlejuice kneeled on the couch behind her. He gripped her underwear and slid them down her milky thighs.

“God, yer wet.” His forefinger played with her labia. “You’re gonna need it, for what I’m gonna shove in ya.”

It was Lydia’s turn to moan. Supporting her with one arm, Beetlejuice lifted her just enough to pull her panties down her legs and throw them aside. While still holding her, he placed two pillows under her stomach, then lowered her onto them.

Gently, he replaced her fingertip and thumb with his own, stroking. Lydia gasped. That magical heat of earlier stayed with her clit as he took away his hand.

“Mommy an' Dads aren’t around.” His chuckle sounded like a growl. “I’ve got ya _all_ t' _myself_.”

“Oh, Mr. Ghost,” Lydia cried as he slipped his shaking hands between her thighs, parting them to either side of his, “you’re evil, you’ve wicked.”

Beetlejuice bent down and cupped her breasts. He nipped at her neck and shoulders while his fingers massaged her nipples. “Ya like this, sweet thing?”

Lydia's burning ache was too much. “Fuck me, Beej.”

The ghost was up on his knees, his left hand holding her hips steady as his right guided his cockhead to her wetness and warmth. He shoved. Lydia cried out with hunger and ecstasy. As lubricated as she was, her slit was too snug for him to get in easily. Gripping her hips, he gritted his teeth and pushed forward as she pushed back.

“Oh god YES!” Lydia whimpered. “Fuck me, please, _fuck me!_ ”

Beetlejuice grunted as his cock worked in and out, slowly. “Jeezus. I’m fucking my baby, I’m fuckin' my sweet Lydia’s cunt. Ooohhh, Lyds, yer so fuckin’ _tight_ an' _hot an' wet_.”

His stokes sped up. Lydia panted “Yes, yes, yes, oh god, oh god.” The magic heat stroking her clit was perfection, and the friction of his thrusts was building the insane ache inside her.

Beetlejuice held her hip with his left hand, and with his right brushed back her hair so he could see her flushed face and full, red lips framed in the soft fake fur. “This what ya want?” he gasped. “Ya want my big, fat cock rammin' into yer sweet pussy?”

“ _Ohhh_ ,” Lydia called in heat. “Harder! **Harder!** ”

“This is the suckin' I want!” Beetlejuice’s tie flopped and his hair fell into his face with the power of his thrusts. “ _This_ is the suckin' I want!” He grunted “uh, uh, uh, yeah, oh fuck yes” as he pounded. He felt as if he were going insane from the pure, immeasurable ecstasy of the sight, sound, smell, feel of his Lydia. His heart banged in his chest as if he were capable of having an attack.

The pillows began to slip from under her, and he pushed them back. The throw was bunching beneath them from his thrusts, and the ghost had to juice it to keep it in place.

“Faster, harder, oh god, oh god, **fuck me, Beetlejuice!** “ Lydia shuddered and cried out loudly. Her nails dug into the throw. Her vaginal muscles clenched and released rapidly. It was so good it was almost painful. Lydia’s mouth opened with a silent scream.

“Cum, baby! Cum! Milk my cock!” Beetlejuice thrust like a mad man as the tingling burn started in his balls and cockhead. “Ah christ, Lyds, you’re suckin' me, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum _hard_.” He jerked himself into her as far as he could go. With a cry he shook as if electrocuted, holding her shivering hips as he shot.

Beetlejuice came for longer than he had before, until his balls felt drained. Lydia quivered, goosebumps covering her back. Both of them breathed heavily, as if they’d surfaced after being underwater for a long time.

Beetlejuice fell forward, catching himself with his arms so that he didn’t collapse on her. His sweat-damp hair was sticking to his face as he rubbed his pointed nose on her rosy cheek. Slowly, she reached up and caressed his face.

The exhausted ghost raised himself and carefully pulled the pillows from under Lydia – _his_ Lydia! -- as his cock reluctantly slipped out. Sighing deeply, the young woman rolled onto her back. Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she smiled up at him. He lowered onto her, his arms framing her head, his fingers in her damp hair.

They lay, recovering, for a while.

Beetlejuice kissed her. He whispered, “You okay?”

Lydia softly chuckled. “Perfect,” she whispered. “You?”

“You are…” Beetlejuice didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “Yer doomed, baby. Short of exorcism, ya ain’t gettin’ rid of me.”

“Oo, I’m scared.” Lydia wound her arms around his neck. “To be haunted by my demon lover. How will I stand it?”

The couch was wide enough for them to lay side by side, in the spoon fashion, him on the outside, she on the inside, sharing one pillow and the fake chinchilla throw. They fell asleep.

………………………………………………………………….

Percy's tail-tip twitched with annoyance. The living room fireplace threw the shadows of the frantically humping ghost and Percy's owner on the wall behind where the black cat was perched on the back of the sofa.

“Fuck me, Beej, fuck me! Oh! OH!”

“I'm cumin', Lyds! Ah, FUCK _YES_!”

It was late afternoon of the second day since Percy's owner's parents had left. The black cat had witnessed a lot of this noise and smell in several areas all over the house. It was new and somewhat intriguing, but it also made him hungry. Twice his meals had been very late. Breakfast had been forgotten altogether. He wasn't used to this.

Percy hopped off the sofa and approached his human, who was gasping underneath the huffing male on the white shag area rug in front of the fireplace. He stared at her pointedly.

“Baby..,”Beetlejuice lifted his head, his blond hair a tangled mass, his eyes half-closed from exhaustion, and his grin wide with salacious satisfaction. “...if I weren't already dead, you'd be th' death of me. But whut a way t' go.”

Lydia laugh-gasped, her arms thrown over her head and her sweep of black hair, shiny in the firelight. “What are you _doing_ to me? I didn't know I could cum that many times in two days.” She threaded her fingers into the ghost's sweaty hair. “Not that I'm _complaining_. But god, is this even _natural_?”

Beetlejuice looked worried. “It's not me, baby. I mean, I'm not possessin' ya, I couldn't 'juice ya into cumin' against yer will, I _wouldn't_ \--”

“I wasn't thinking that! I know you're not _making_ me.” Lydia hesitated, and her eyes glowed. “But it _is_ you, silly. And you _are_ 'juicing' me into cuming. Just with your own, natural sexiness.” She kissed him, then stretched her arms, arched her back, and sighed with deep contentment. “Let's stay like this. Forever.”

“If I don't slip out of ya now I'm gonna get hard again.”

“Ummm, I need to recharge.” Lydia gave a small, self-conscious laugh as Beetlejuice kissed her damp bangs from her forehead. “How am I going to keep a straight face the next time Bertha complains about how no guy can keep it up long enough?”

“Merrow,” Percy interrupted, emphatically.

Lyds tilted back her head. “Oh! I'm sorry dinner's late again, Perc.”

“Heh. _My_ mouth's been full.” Beetlejuice's mouth covered the girl's left nipple.

 _BUZZZ_. The smartphone on the coffee table vibrated insistently.

“Aw, crap,” snorted Beetlejuice. “ _Again_?”

“Ugh.” Lydia covered her ears. “I am _not_ answering it.”

“Ya know whut'll happen if ya don't.”

“Yeesss. Father will call the police, certain that his pumpkin has been murdered in her bed.”

The ghost smirked evilly. “He doesn't want t' know _whut_ you've been doin' in yer bed these two days.” He grimaced, and reluctantly slid his cock out of his girl. “ _But_...”

“ _I know_. Double ugh.” Lydia flipped onto her stomach, slid over to the coffee table, and reached for the phone.

“Hello, Father.” Lydia smiled as Beetlejuice slid on his gut across the rug to between her legs, and kissed her buttocks with adoration. “Oh! _Delia_. Hi.”

The ghost immediately stopped kissing. He listened suspiciously.

Lydia sat up abruptly. “You're in Peaceful Pines? _Now_?!”

“Whut?!” Beetlejucie exclaimed.

Lydia slapped her hand over her lover's mouth. “Sorry, Mother, I'm just surprised! You weren't going to be here until tomorrow morn-- Sure! OK! See you soon!” She clicked off the phone and dropped it as if it were molten iron. “They'll be here in _forty minutes_!”

“Th' hell?”

Lydia jumped to her feet and pulled on her red, long-sleeved shirt, but didn't button it. She yanked on her red lace panties. “Oh my god, I've got to clean! Delia will sniff out that I've had sex, and Father with have a massive coronary!”

Chuckling, Beetlejuice sat back, his straight legs spread apart as he propped himself on his arms, his large, flaccid cock and balls resting in the white shag. “Dunno if you've got time t' clean, baby. Lesse...” He counted on his red-tipped fingers. “There's yer bed...”

“The sheets! The blanket! The pillow cases!”

“Th' couch...”

Lydia grabbed the couch's faux chinchilla throw and matching pillows.

“Yer Dad's chair...”

After breakfast that morning Beetlejuice had sat in the chair with his pants down to his ankles, while Lydia had tried to bounce on top of him. The position was so precarious they'd burst out laughing. They switched to Lydia in the seat with her legs spread open over its arms, and the ghost standing, hammering them both into a climax so loud Percy had retreated to the basement.

Lydia pulled off the chair's seat cushion. “Will this fit in the washer?” she asked, desperately.

“Th' kitchen...”

Lydia wanted to be “eaten” while she lay on the ten thousand dollar marble counter of the kitchen's island. Beej was happy to comply, her legs over his shoulders, his striped tongue and lips bringing her to a rollicking climax while he beat off, spraying cum on the island's thirteen thousand dollar cherry-wood drawers.

“An' here.” The ghost patted the area rug affectionately. “Now I see why it's called 'shag.'”

Lydia was barely holding back panic. “So you clean here and the kitchen and I'll do laundry!”

“ _Clean_? **Me**?” Beetlejuice huffed indignantly.

“Half of this juice is _yours,_ sexy.” Lydia booped his pointed nose. “Unless you _want_ Delia to figure out that I've had mad sex all through the house, and think it was Chad.”

At that name black smoke expelled from the ghost's flaring nostrils. He stood up grumpily. “Ya wouldn't think a woman who reeks of expensive, French perfume could smell _anythin_ '.” He glared at Percy stropping between his ankles. “Not now, cat. I got a date with Mr. Clean.”

“As much as _I_ appreciate the sight,” said Lydia mischievously, her arms full of the pillows and the throw blanket , “I don't know how Peaceful Pines would feel about seeing Mr. Beetleman's tools.”

Beej saw he was standing stark naked in front of the living room's large picture window. The village and all traffic going to and from it spread out below the house's hill. He put his arms behind his head and waved his hips, his cock and balls swinging like pendulums. “Eat yer hearts out, Peaceful Pines! Only Lydia Deetz gets these goodies!”

Lydia laughed, but saw the triangular wall clock. “Oh god, they'll be here in twenty-five minutes!” She shoved the ghost toward the kitchen and dashed for the stairs to her room. “Go, go, go!

The ghost snapped his fingers. He was immediately clothed in his beetle-pattern briefs.

There followed a mad scramble of Lydia retrieving sheets, pillowcases, towels, and her clothes, and cramming as much as she could into the large washer in the laundry room at the back of the house.

The Ghost With the Most juiced glass cleaner and paper towels to scrub every surface in the kitchen and the living room.

“Mer _row_!” Percy insisted in the kitchen, looking from the ghost to the cupboard which held the canned food, then to his empty dish on the rubber mat in the corner, then back to the ghost.

“Whaddaya botherin' _me_ for?” Beetlejucie growled. “I don't even know whut ya eat.”

The ghost poofed himself to the laundry room. Lydia, still wearing only her panties and open shirt, her phone in its breast pocket, was impatiently waiting for the first wash to finish.

“Argh, it won't be done in time!” Lydia looked at the remaining stained sheet and blankets. “Maybe I can hide these in the attic until they leave again.”

“Th' house stinks of Windex.” Beetlejuice shuddered with disgust. “They're gonna be suspicious.”

“At worse, they'll think I had a party.” Lydia gazed warmly at her lover and giggled. “Well...we _did_.”

Beetlejuice gazed back. “Beautiful, seein' ya run around in yer shirt an' panties.... My juice is risin' again.” He pressed against her, his hands stroking her hair from her face. “Howzabout right here, on this pile of laundry?”

Lydia couldn't deny she already had another ache tingling. _How is this even possible?_ she wondered, incredulous. She realized that the thrill of possibly being caught had its own erotic attraction. Plus, she was, she admitted, one horny almost-eighteen-year-old. “We don't have _time_. And I need to take a shower! A long, hot shower, with lots of scented soap.”

_BUZZZ._

Eyes rolling, Lydia answered the phone.

“Father!...Do I want anything from the store? Uh....”

The ghost pushed open her shirt and licked each breast as if they were precious. “Stall him,” his deep voice rasped.

Lydia covered the phone with her hand. “They're fifteen minutes away,” she protested, weakly.

Beetlejuice slid her panties down her legs. He rubbed his nose against her clit and blew his hot breath on it. Her thighs quivered and opened to allow his tongue to tease her vaginal lips. “It won't take long. I can tell yer ready.”

Lydia's eyes closed as she spread her thighs even wider. Barely able to think clearly, she muttered, “Ummmm, Father...Dad, I'd like some Cheetos...and a Coke.....” Her ghost juiced the movement on her clit that drove her to palpitations. Her left hand dug into his hair.

Beetlejuice whispered from her crotch, “An' somma those crickets they sell fer bait.”

“And some live crickets they sell in the bait section....” Lydia leaned against the washer. Between its rhythmic motion and the ghost's ministrations, her own juice was rising to a flood. Her head fell back as she gripped Beetlejuice's hair. “...Uh, they're for a photography assignment. Up Close With Nature, or something.... Okay, see you in twenty minutes...Oh, more like thirty, the traffic...That's good! I mean, sure, take your time, no rush....Thanks, Father....'Bye.”

Lydia dropped her phone into the laundry basket and dropped herself on the pile of sheets and blankets. With a ravenous chuckle, Beetle was on her.

…..................

“Pumpkin!” Charles Deetz closed the front door behind him. “We're home!”

Delia tossed her scarf onto the entryway table. She stuck her head in the living room. “Where is she?” She stared at the sofa. “ _Where_ are my Adrienne Landau chinchilla throw blanket and pillows?” She walked into the room, focusing on the bare wood floor in front of the fireplace. “ _And_ matching area rug?”

Charles placed a grocery bag on the kitchen island. He sniffed. “Why does the house smell like Windex? The maid service wasn't scheduled while we were gone, were they?”

“I _never_ let strangers in my house when _I'm_ not here.” Delia kept a supervisory eye on the maids while they scoured the house. But she was thinking of Mr. Beetleman in particular. She raised a thin eyebrow at her husband. “You don't think she had a _party,_ do you?”

Charles blinked, as if incapable of considering this. “Who with?”

“Oh. Yes. This is _Lydia_ we're talking about.”

Freshly showered, dressed in her flannel pajamas, her hair wrapped in a towel, Lydia came down the stairs. “Welcome home, Father, Mother!” She hugged each of them.

“Pumpkin! We brought your snacks.” Charles produced her Cheetos and bottle of Coca-Cola. He held a small, loudly chirping box at a distance. “What do you want to do with these?”

“I'll just take them to my room. Thanks!” She took the box as nonchalantly as if it were just another bag of snacks. Which, she knew, they were. _Sorry_ , she thought at the crickets.

“Were you bored while we were gone?” asked Delia, with a hint of prying.

“No, I found something to do.” Lydia smiled angelically. “How was the visit?”

“ _Oh,_ I don’t want to _think_ about it,” Delia sighed. “Business discussed over heaps of pasta, what _fun_. It was like an Italian, real estate Glengarry Glen Ross.” She added, with a lowered voice, “Arnie and Angelica have a _Jeff Koons_ in their foyer.” She pretended to gag.

“They buy your art for their hotels,” Charles pointed out, still staring warily at the box of crickets.

“That's the only good taste they have. _Anyway_ , we suffered greatly, but made a mint. All the more toward your college fund, dear.”

Lydia, having not heard a word, nodded. “That's wonderful!”

Her step-daughter's lack of comment about heartless capitalist avarice surprised Delia. “ _You’re_ certainly chipper.”

“I just feel really great,” Lydia said, with pure honesty. “Really, really great.”

“That’s good, pumpkin.” Charles retrieved _The New York Times_ from the porch. He headed for the armchair.

Lydia looked at his chair with alarm. “OH! Don’t sit there, Father! The, um, cushion's in the dryer.”

Charles halted his rear from landing on his beloved chair. He looked bereft. “Whatever for?”

“I…spilled coffee on it! And on the throw blanket. And the couch pillows. And..on the rug.”

“That’s not like you, Lydia,” said Delia, with an expression as if she'd had suspicions confirmed. She winked. “Have a little party while we were gone?”

“Party? Me? With who?” Lydia laughed. “No, I was just clumsy! I tripped on the rug and Salted Caramel Mocha went flying _everywhere_!” She threw open her arms to indicate the vast area the coffee had covered.

“I think those should all go to the dry cleaners,” said Delia.

“No, it's all washed, Mother! They're in the dryer right now. I'll go get them!” She rushed down the hall.

“Is it just me,” said Delia, tilting her head, “or does she seem....pinker?”

“Merrow!” cried Percy desperately, rubbing against Delia's ankles.

“Oh, don't even try to convince me you're starving, Percy. I can see your dish from here, and it's empty, so I _know_ you ate it all.”

…..................................

Lydia let out a sigh when she reached the laundry room. She heard a dry chuckle in the air next to her.

“It’s not funny,” said Lydia. “That was close! How would I have explained it?”

Beetlejuice appeared, wearing only his briefs, leaning on the wall next to the dryer. “How're ya gonna explain why ya did so much laundry?”

Lydia smirked. “I see why you’re called ’Juice.’” She kissed him and handed him the box of crickets.

“Hey, like ya said, it’s not all mine, beautiful.” Beetlejuice placed the box on the dryer and pulled her to him. “Ya give as much as ya get.” He kissed her.

“Lydia!” Charles called. “News is on!”

“Coming, Father!”

The ghost chuckled. “Not right now, yer not. How 'bout later?”

“I _can’t_ get rid of you, can I?”

Beetlejuice, worried for a second, said, “Well, ya could. Ya know how. If ya really wanted to.”

“Stop it. _Who’s_ being insecure _now_?” Lydia kissed the blond hair on his chest, then whispered, “I’ve got to do the Family Thing for a while. But tomorrow morning, before they get up…how about we go to _your_ place? That is, if Ginger and Jacques aren’t still in shock.”

Beetlejuice grinned. “Baby, they’ll just have t' get used to it.”

Locked in a goodbye-for-now kiss, they didn't see Percy leap on top of the dryer.  Curious about the sounds emitting from the box, he batted it.  Its impact with the floor popped open the lid.  The cat jumped down among the rapidly fleeing, chirping insects.  Resigned, he ate one.

**The End.**

 


End file.
